


In My Veins

by SuperSillyAndDorky06



Series: Unrequited (But Never Doubt I Love) [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attraction, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Felicity Smoak Is His Lobster, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Oliver Queen Being an Asshole, One-Sided Attraction, Requited Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSillyAndDorky06/pseuds/SuperSillyAndDorky06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak falls in love at her friend's wedding. With the groom.<br/>She knows it does not have an end. She knows it is pointless. She knows it is unrequited.<br/>Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/gifts).



> Because you are the devil on my shoulder and you break my funk. Today just reiterated to me how lucky I am to have you in my life. This is for you because I couldn't have written one word of it without you cheerleading like you did. I love you. *kisses* 
> 
> Title - In My Veins by Andrew Belle 
> 
> The idea for this series has been in my head for a long time and writing it out just felt right today. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. I love hearing from you!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

_ _

_Oh, you're in my veins_  
_And I cannot get you out_  
_Oh, you're all I taste_  
_At night inside of my mouth_  
_Oh, you run away_  
_'Cause I am not what you found_  
_Oh, you're in my veins_  
_And I cannot get you out_

* * *

 

 

When Felicity had been four, she had stubbed her toe for the first time while running outside to greet her father who had returned home after two days. She had cried and bawled at her swollen little toe that her mom had painted a pretty shade of pink just the previous night. And for the first time in her four years, she had felt pain. 

Felicity had been almost seven when she'd been told what pain was. All the kids in her class had been spelling the different kinds of emotions, and since she'd already done that a week ago, Mrs. Griffith, her sweet white-haired teacher, was telling Felicity about emotions. Love. Hate. Pleasure. Pain.

Little Felicity had wrapped her mind all around the concepts, fascinated because her range of emotions up to that point in her life had swung between hungry, sleepy, happy and repeat. The ideas of more emotions out there had fascinated her genius nugget of a mind. And then Mrs. Griffith had smiled at her curiosity, and told her that every emotion had different hues, different ranges. 

Before Felicity had been able to grasp that part, the class had been over and she had been on her way home, day-dreaming about the wires her father had shown her a few days ago. When she had reached home though, she'd found her mother on the couch, crying like her toe had been stubbed. Felicity had peeked at her toes, only to find none had been swollen, and her mother had pulled her in her arms and cried harder. Felicity had just stayed there, not understanding, and after a few hours, her mother had told her that her father had left, only to never return. 

Felicity hadn't believed her, and waited, for days, ready to stub her toe again if it meant he would come back. And as the days had passed, the words Mrs. Griffith had spoken to her that fateful day had taken root deep inside her.

_Emotions have hues._

She had realized, within seven years of her life, that  _pain_  had different hues.  

* * *

 

Felicity had felt hues of all kinds over the years. She'd felt the red when the knowledge that her father had  _chosen_  to walk away had settled in her bones. She'd felt the purple when Mrs. Griffith, the kind, gentle woman who had taken Felicity under her care at school, had died suddenly in an accident. She'd felt the blues when kids at her school had tried to bully her with all sorts of things and her mother had been too busy trying to keep her in the very same school. She'd felt the green when she had found her first boyfriend in her bed with her roommate in college. And then she had felt the black when Cooper had died on a prison sentence that'd been meant for her.

Over the years, the hues had mixed with other emotions, but they had always retained their own tint.  

Until that moment. 

For the first time in her life, the slight tang of pain did not have a definitive hue. A concoction of nothing, a concoction of all. 

_Him._

* * *

 

It hadn't started when she'd seen him upon entering the cavernous space where the cocktail party was being held. Her eyes had been magnetically drawn to him, yes. How could they not have been?

He stood, even now, surrounded with people, people hanging on to his every word, his square jaw littered with scruff that defied polite society, a small dimple peeking out from under the scruff where his face was in profile. And good lord, what a face. Felicity had seen her number of handsome men in her twenty-three years. He was not handsome. Handsome was probably the first level of the adjective that he was, an adjective she could not find simply because it did not exist. It did not exist because that amalgamation of good with a streak of rebellion, bad with a streak of gold did not exist.

Felicity stood near the bar, watching him for almost fifteen minutes, trying to understand what he was.

Just as she was accepting that it wasn't anything she couldn't quell, it happened. 

It happened in one split second, in a manner so surreal as though it had been choreographed a thousand times by the universe to happen exactly in the way that it did.

The people in front of him dissipated, the crowd thinning, just as he turned his neck and looked straight at her.

Her heart stopped. 

The bluest of blues. Sapphire. So stark she could she it from across the space. 

It wasn't an accidental gaze. It wasn't a random perusal. No. It was intent, deliberate. 

He was telling her he had known of her eyes on him, known exactly where she had been standing, the entire time that she had been watching him. He was letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that he had enjoyed her eyes, and now it was his turn. 

Felicity felt her pulse skitter. 

It wasn't a sexual gaze. It wasn't a predatory gaze. It wasn't even a heavy gaze. 

It was just...  _intense._  

He scrutinized her without removing his eyes once from hers, and somehow, it made her feel more naked than she did in her bed. 

She returned the stare unabashedly, the intimacy swirling in the space between them making her heart thunder loudly in her chest. Had someone told her she would be in knots over a staring match with a guy in minutes, she would have laughed at their fanciful imagination. This was anything but. It was very,  _very_  real, as real as the blood rushing through her veins, as real as the heat settling over her body, as real as the comfort she reveled in despite the intensity. Felicity leaned back against the bar, the counter top digging into her naked back, looking back at him.

It wasn't like in the movies, just the two of them, the crowd becoming white noise. No. She was hyper-aware of the crowd, and the fact that they were doing  _this,_ something which felt supremely _intimate,_ in the middle of people, of where anyone could see and feel the connect between their gazes thrilled her. 

It went on for minutes, or seconds, or hours, she couldn't tell. It just didn't stop. 

Someone caught his attention and made him turn, and in that one second of reprieve, Felicity took her first deep breath, feeling the burn in her lungs, her own unbelievable reaction to nothing but the caress of his eyes. Ordering herself a drink, she whirled on her silver mile-high heels, inhaling deeply again, feeling his eyes on the skin her blue, expensive dress exposed, right down to her waist. 

She waited a second to compose herself. 

And when she turned, he was nowhere to be seen.  

* * *

 

The cocktail party only got wilder once the drinks started flowing. Her college friend, Ashley, who was the bride, had danced the night away, getting tipsier and tipsier. 

The party, like the wedding, was happening on the small private island her family owned, to some super rich hotshot who Felicity had never heard Ashley speak of. Which was saying something because Ash talked a lot, especially when she got drunk. They were different, very, but she'd always had Felicity's back in college, always kicked ass before Felicity even lifted her leg. Ash did everything she did like she lived- completely. There was nothing halfway with her. And Felicity loved her. Which was why, when she had asked Felicity to be a bridesmaid, she hadn't even hesitated. 

The wedding was in three days, and Felicity felt tired, having arrived just in the evening. 

She tried to contain her disappointment at not seeing  _him_  again, even though her eyes had been scanning the room frequently, and failed. Someone groped her ass in the dark and Felicity sighed, an ache starting in the center of her forehead and spreading as she pulled away and headed for the door, very much sober. 

Closing the door behind her, walking outside, Felicity welcomed the fresh sea breeze and headed towards the beach, the sounds of waves washing over her, calming her, the crescent moon high in the starry sky. She plucked her heels from her feet and sunk her toes into the sand, walking to where the waves crashed over them, feeling the cool water envelop her feet as she stood with the heels in her hand. 

She felt his eyes before she saw him.

He came to stand beside her, his own feet bare and trousers rolled up muscular calves, the jacket of his suit slung over his shoulder by one finger, the white shirt stretched taut across his huge torso. He was tall, very tall. And big. And it should not have thrilled Felicity the way it did. 

He stood beside her, watching her quietly without pretense, his eyes shadowed in the dark, unable to tell her anything. But he didn't speak, didn't break the silence of the night. Neither did she. 

His hand brushed against hers once before he shoved it in his pocket, and Felicity breathed in deeply. 

She didn't know what was happening right then. But it felt good. Very good. 

Felicity turned back to the sea, her skin heated, before walking back to the dry beach and sitting down, leaning back on her hands and stretching her legs, the balls of her feet happy at being relieved. She felt him walk to where she sat, and drop down beside her in a similar posture. He looked at her, a soft smile on his lips, before turning to the sea. She didn't know what was in the air that night, didn't know why she, logical, rational Felicity Smoak, felt the way she did. Because there was no rationale, no reason, no logic for two strangers sitting in silence, stealing glances at each other and gazing at the sea, to make her soar the way it was.

They sat that way for hours, never breaking the silence even though they could have. She had no clue why he didn't. Frankly, she didn't even know why she didn't, especially since she talked a lot. But something stopped her from filling the quiet with words, her heart pounding in the bubble with him. 

But she had forgotten the thing about bubbles. They burst. 

"Oliverrrrr," Ash's slurred voice made Felicity turn her head, to see her drunk friend making her way on tottering heels towards them. 

Felicity blinked once, slightly confused, before her eyes flew to his with dawning horror.

Oliver. 

_Oliver Queen._

The groom. 

Felicity's face burned. She saw the smile that came over his lips as he stood up and tucked a plastered Ash into his side.

"Felisssity," Ash mumbled before leaning into his side. 

Felicity's heart sank. He gave her a nod, like the quiet hours and the bubble had never happened, and turned back towards the house. 

And watching his back retreat, his muscular arm wrapped around her friend, Felicity felt that concoction for the first time in her veins, sending a pang through her chest. 

She didn't know what it was. She didn't know if she had conjured the bubble on her own. 

She had sat for hours in shared silence, feeling connected in inexplicable ways to the one man who was off limits.  

* * *

 

Felicity had realized, over the next two days, that the intensity she had witnessed in his gaze was normal. She had read too much into that intensity. 

Yes, she had. 

And even if she hadn't, then what? Ash was her friend and Oliver was the groom and this was their wedding. She was not the girl who came between couples, not the girl who broke marriages even before they were made. 

So what if his eyes had followed her whenever they had been in the same room? So what if he had sought her out once again on the second evening, just to stand and breath in the same space, and watch her while she tried to find excuses in her head for it? So what if he had scared off Ash's cousin with a glare she had never seen anyone accomplish, only because he had gotten to handsy with her at dinner? So what if her heart pounded every time he even breathed in the same vicinity as she did? So what?

It didn't matter.

Because the bubbles were of her own making. He was just a good guy who was pleasant to her, even though they hadn't exchanged a word, and she saw the way he smiled at Ash. It was for the best, she kept telling herself. Two days did not change people like that. Two days did not affect Felicity Smoak like that. Two days were nothing. But her heart had beat more in the two days than it had in years, her nerves had stretched tighter in two days than they had in years, she had dreamed more in two days than she had in years, with eyes wide open. But the bubbles were still her own. 

So, she had avoided him. She had avoided his eyes in same rooms, avoided physical contact in the same space. 

So what if everything inside her failed?

The hues, for the first time, merged all together. Even though nothing in her was broken, something in her could not mend. 

* * *

 

His eyes never left hers. 

Something clawed inside Felicity, scratching at the walls of her heart, suffocating her as she stood with the other bridesmaids in her purple gown. 

His eyes never left hers. 

She tried. She tried breaking their gaze like she had done at dinner the other night, she tried to take a step back to get Ash's sister in his line of vision, she tried blocking him out. 

He didn't allow it. There was something fierce in his azure eyes right then, something she hadn't seen in the three days that she had learned them- learned the shades and the expressions it could hold even as she had avoided them. Something that had rendered her frozen on the spot, unable to look away, even as her chest wound tighter and tighter with every spoken word. 

The vows were made. Her stomach dropped. His eyes never left hers. 

The guests cheered. Her blood rushed to her ears. His eyes never left hers. 

The rings were exchanged. Something cracked. His eyes never left hers. 

Then he leaned in to kiss his wife. Felicity looked away. Only because his eyes closed. 

For the first time in her life, all hues merged into nothing but white. Stark, blank white. 

Not only because of that look in his eyes. But because she had never been supposed to be the one at the end of it. 

* * *

  

She made up an excuse about an urgent meeting right after the wedding. 

Ash's parents arranged a private ferry back to the main island for her as Ash hugged her, glowing. Felicity felt like a traitor, because even though she had done nothing, she had done everything. The woman who had come for the wedding didn't cross boundaries. The woman who was leaving couldn't see them. Had her bubble rendered her blind to those? Where had the boundaries been?

Walking to the small port with heavy steps, after telling everyone not to interrupt the celebrations for her, Felicity reached within minutes, something coiling in her gut, ready to snap.   

And as always, she felt him before she saw him. He headed towards her with long strides, eating the distance between them swiftly. 

The bubble tried to come up at his approach, float for a second, and she tamped it down, pasting a smile on her face just as he reached her, stopping just on the edge of her personal space. 

Felicity swallowed, her throat weighed down by unspoken, unacknowledged things, and spoke her first word to him.

"Congratulations."

The moment the word left her, she looked down at her feet, unable to keep the smile, unable to hold those eyes. 

She saw his hand move an inch, tentatively, hesitantly, as though unsure, before it closed the gap between them and his fingers brushed over hers, the rough fingers grasping hers quietly. 

Her mouth trembled. 

"Felicity."

Her name. Just her name. His rough, low voice, wrapped around her name like it had a right to it. 

She grasped the hand back for one second, memorizing the feel of it for later, and looked up. 

A small shiver went down her spine at the blue, blue eyes that just looked back at her. 

The ferry arrived and taking a deep breath, she pulled her hand away. His fingers tightened infinitesimally on hers before he let go, his jaw clenched and Felicity let herself look at him one last time before turning away and stepping on to the ferry without looking back. 

She felt his eyes on her back as she left the island behind, heading into the night. She felt her heart cave in on itself as the tears she had been holding for three days fell in abandon. She felt her legs shake as the sounds she had been keeping trapped inside her escaped. 

All her life, Felicity had believed that pain had hues. 

But as she let the last three days wash over her, she realized something else.

Sometimes,  _pain_ was just _pain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tell me what you thought? I'd love some feedback.
> 
> Also, check out my other stories if you liked this. :)
> 
> Come say Hi to me on
> 
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	2. Chases

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> Honestly, you all have stumped me. I wrote this as a sort of catharsis on a really bad day and never really expected any response, to be honest. It was just something I wrote for me, to get my own head back in a good place. But _this response_... I seriously don't have words for how absolutely amazing you all are, to welcome my stories with such warmth and such enthusiasm. The feedback you give me is seriously the only thing some days to keep me pushing, so THANK YOU, SO, SO MUCH for this. 
> 
> Here is the next chapter. This will only have one-two more. In fact this entire series will have stories of 2-3 chapters. Enjoy. 
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. I love hearing from you!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

  


_Everything will change_  
_Nothing stays the same_  
_Nobody here's perfect_  
_Oh, but everyone's to blame_  
_Oh, all that you rely on_  
_And all that you can save_  
_Will leave you in the morning_  
_And find you in the day..._

* * *

 

When Felicity had been 8, Mrs. Griffith had hugged her and told her something that stayed with her through the years, even though her nugget of a mind hadn't understood it then.

After her father had left, and her mother had immersed herself in work to keep a roof over their heads and keep Felicity in school, each night, Felicity had started pretending that her father would come home in the morning before going to bed. And each morning, she'd wake up to an empty house, and tell herself "tomorrow".

That "tomorrow" had never come. 

And little as she had been, Felicity had never accepted it, but rather turned to something else. 

There had been a dog in her neighborhood she'd started playing with. Every afternoon, she'd return from school and play with him till it got dark, finding happiness in the way he'd butt his head into her tiny frame and nuzzle and tickle her. 

Just when her mind had pushed her father to the back, the dog had died. 

And Felicity had, then, turned to computers. 

Mrs. Griffith had seen it all. She had seen her turn away from truths time and again. She had talked to Felicity. But Felicity hadn't listened.

Except that one thing she hadn't been able to shake off.

 _"Things you run away from have a way of finding you."_  

It had stayed with her for a long, long time.

* * *

  


8 months.  

She'd been running for 8 months. 

Running from her friend. Running from her old circle. Running from herself. From the truth. 

The truth being that she'd been changed. In three mere days, 8 months ago, Felicity Smoak had changed. Something inside her had shifted. Something inside her had come alive. And no matter how much she tried to kill it, no matter how much she tried to ignore it, no matter how much she tried to pretend it didn't exist, it did. It was alive and thriving and thrashing for release from the cage she had put it in. It thrashed when she looked up at the sky and saw the shades of blue she'd seen focused on her. It clawed when someone touched her hand and her skin remembered calloused fingers. It whimpered when she breathed. 

Felicity didn't know what 'it' was. It just was. 

For 8 months, she'd tried to push it away, to shove it under. 

For 8 months, she'd tried to hide it under sometimes genuine, sometimes faked facades. 

For 8 months, she'd lived, knowing it lived too, right under her skin, right in her breaths, right in her veins. 

For 8 months. 

And then the walls cracked.

* * *

  


The first time Felicity had met Ashley, she'd been having an allergic reaction to the pot brownie a senior had shoved at her in the middle of a frat party she'd decided to attend. Ashley had rushed over and injected a shot of epinephrine right into her thigh before pulling the culprit by the collar and giving him a piece of her mind, uncaring that he had been a senior and she a freshman. Then, she'd turned and helped a weak-kneed Felicity up to her room, all the time talking about how mental some guys were. And she'd been loud, but nice. They had gotten talking and a close friendship had struck. The friendship had lasted over the years in college, despite the fact that they'd been chalk and cheese. But they'd both connected and it had stuck.

They'd shared almost everything of consequence in their present lives with each other, which is why it had taken Felicity completely by surprise when Ash had called and told her about the wedding. Felicity had never even known she'd been dating, much less serious about a guy. But she'd taken it in stride. Until the wedding. 

Felicity opened her eyes, looking at the computer screen in front of her, the codes blurring in her vision as an ache pounded right behind her eyes. 

After the wedding, she'd taken some time away from Ash, letting her settle into marital bliss, and immersed herself into her work, into her trusted computers and her codes. She loved it, no doubt. But after months of the same thing, it was getting on her nerves. 

Ash had called her almost a month after the wedding, just to catch up, since they lived in different cities. Hearing about her husband had knotted her stomach with guilt, and she was ashamed to admit, a pang of jealousy. But she'd tried to respond normally, like her heart hadn't been pounding and her palms hadn't been sweating the entire time. She'd tried to respond normally because end of the day, Ash was her friend and she loved her. 

A few months into the phone calls, the sweaty palms and pounding heart had been replaced by heated blood and a clenched jaw. The memory of those blue eyes looking at her, of that rough hand holding her had set her blood on fire and not the good kind. It had been rage. Pure, utter rage. At him. How dared he look at her when he'd been marrying her best friend? How dared he look at any other woman while speaking his vows? How dared he run after her at his own reception? What kind of a man did that? 

And she'd had her answer in a few months, even as Ash went on waxing poetry about him. But Ash didn't know of those wandering eyes that had glued on her. Ash didn't know of the hand that had held hers. Ash didn't know the kind of man her husband was. 

But she did. 

Oliver Queen was an asshole. 

* * *

It was in the seventh month after the wedding (and yes she'd been keeping count) that things changed. 

The phone calls with Ash were the same, but instead of rhapsodizing about him, she'd sounded forlorn. Felicity asked. Ash brushed it off. 

The second time it happened, Felicity pressed the issue, even though she hadn't wanted to get into an issue involving him. Ash brushed it off again. 

The third time Felicity just jumped the gun. "Is he abusing on you?" 

"Good god, no!" Ash's denial came immediately, her voice loud. 

Felicity nodded, looking at the coffee in her hand. "Is he cheating on you?" 

"No!" the horror in Ash's voice relieved her. Good. 

Felicity sipped the black brew. "Are you cheating on him?"

"Imma smack you, girl!" Ash stated, using the slang she loved to use sometimes. But then her voice came quietly. "I just..."

"What?" Felicity urged. 

Ash sighed, and Felicity could picture her pinching her nose. "It's not him. It's me. I don't think I love him anymore. I don't think I ever really did. He's a great husband, but it's... I just don't feel like his wife. Does that make any sense?"

It didn't. But it did. "Well..." 

"And it's not just that," Ash talked over her. "He kind of changed after the wedding. I can't really explain it, but he just got quieter, you know. He's still a perfect husband, but he's just... ugh... I don't even know what i'm saying!"

Felicity inhaled. "Talk to him about it."

The subject changed soon after that. A few weeks later, a few conversations later, Ash called her in the middle of the night, to inform her she was getting divorced. They talked for a long time that night, but when Felicity put the phone down, it was with the knowledge of her friend's broken marriage. 

It was with the knowledge of the fluttering of her heart. It was with the knowledge of how low she had almost stooped.  

* * *

Felicity tried dating. She did. But none of the men even looked at her with half the intensity she'd experienced. And now that she'd experienced it, she couldn't have anything less. Yet, she tried. 

It was on her fifth, or maybe sixth, attempt that her heart stopped. Deja-vu hit so hard it stole her breath. 

She spotted him across the restaurant on a random perusal, sitting with three other men, dressed in a suit exactly like that first time and a smile exactly like that first time. Her heart froze, before pounding with a vengeance in her chest, exactly like that first time. She tried to remove her eyes, to look back at the man seated across from her who was talking something about sports. But the blood rushing in her ears drowned his words, only a single fragment playing over and over again in her memory like a song on repeat. 

Just one word, spoken long ago on a beach under the stars. One word wrapped in his husky voice, rolling off his tongue like he had owned it. 

Felicity tried to close her eyes, to will herself to look away. She couldn't. 'It' was snapping inside her, hammering against her walls with a force unlike any, making her heart hammer. Felicity had told herself over the months that she had imagined it. That she had blown it all out of proportion in her own head. Only idiots did that. Sitting there, paralyzed, she knew she was an one. 

She took in his black suit draped across his broad shoulders, the blue shirt sans tie unbuttoned at the throat, exposing a sliver of tanned flesh from his neck to his chest. His jaw was scruffier than she remembered, making him look more magnetic than she had ever thought possible, small dimples appearing in his cheek as he looked at the men and smiled at them, his eyes gleaming. He picked up his glass of scotch and Felicity looked at his fingers wrapped around the glass, fingers than had been wrapped around her own once, and her palm tingled with the remembered sensation, her pulse notching higher. She clenched her hands into fists to remove the phantom sensation, suddenly aware of the cool air-conditioned air on the overheated skin of her exposed back and arms, her little black dress doing nothing to bar the prickles along her spine, raising goosebumps on her arms. 

His hand holding the glass lifted to his lips, and then, almost as if sensing her gaze, his face turned and their eyes locked. Exactly like that first time. 

Felicity saw his hand still mid-air, saw the smile slowly disappear from his face as those intense blue eyes held hers. Her breath hitched before picking up pace again, her inability to unlock their gazes as intact as it had been all those months ago. She saw the men around him talk to him in her periphery, knew her own date was trying to catch her attention, but neither of them looked away. The room did not disappear into the background. Like last time, she was acutely aware of every single person in the restaurant, acutely aware of how many people could just turn and see them engage in this, whatever this was. But none of it mattered, for right then, she was looking at her exactly like she was looking at him, and the intensity was seeping into her bones, sluicing the walls and the opening the cages. 

A waiter stepped in her line of vision, breaking the connection, and Felicity took in her first gulp of air, quickly turning her neck away, towards her neglected date. Swallowing, she excused herself and stood up from the table, rushing towards the restrooms in the corner without looking back, not feeling his eyes on her. 

Entering the vacant ladies room, she looked up at the mirror, seeing her flushed face and wide, bright eyes without her glasses, the winded look in them in complete contrast to the chic hair style she'd perfected and the sleek dress. 

It had been unexpected. Very, very unexpected. But it didn't matter. She knew he and Ash had divorced months ago. But that didn't change anything. A man who did what he had done on his own wedding day was an asshole through and through and no amount of intensity could cut through that. She let herself go down that path, let herself remember the anger on her behalf and Ash's behalf, let herself remember how the jerk had disrespected her best friend, disrespected her. The forgotten fury riled her up, wound her nerves into knots she understood, knots she handled well. 

Taking deep breaths, making sure the cage was intact and the anger was in place, Felicity walked out calmly to the table, determined to not look towards her right for the rest of the evening, no matter what. 

As the night went on, she felt proud that she hadn't succumbed to temptation even once. 

But she was mad to have been tempted at all. 

* * *

In another hour, her dinner ended. Her date, a decent guy who she knew she was never going to call, offered to drive her home but she declined, telling him she'd brought her own car. He kissed her cheek outside the restaurant and they parted ways amicably. 

Felicity exhaled and started walking towards her car when she felt it. 

Eyes. 

On her. 

Eyes she'd felt on her throughout the night. 

She quickened her pace, her blood rushing through her body with force, her heart beating louder with each rapid heeled step on the concrete. 

"I see you're still running away."

The low, husky voice stopped her in her tracks. The words fueled the anger inside her, making her spine stiffen as she turned, seeing him standing a few feet away, the moonlight and the light from the street illuminating his tall figure, his hands in his trouser pockets. 

"I see you're still staring at women you have no rights to," she retorted, her tone clipped. 

She saw a corner of his lip curl, the amused twitch never touching his eyes, his blue, blue eyes that continued to pierce her own. 

"Not women," he corrected her quietly, and Felicity felt her fingers curl into her palms, her heart beating a staccato. 

She grit her teeth and turned to walk away just as his hand shot out to grip her wrist, whirling her back around. Her eyes flew to the strong fingers grasping her flesh, fingers she could feel rasp against her skin, long fingers she'd never forgotten the memory of. But anger warred, mingling with another emotion inside her. Panic. The need to get away from him was overwhelming, something she didn't understand. 

She pulled her hand back but his grip didn't slacken, his eyes holding hers just as his hand was. 

"I just want to talk," he spoke, his voice low and making her gut clench for some reason. No. Not happening. Nope. 

"You can do that without my hand," she grit out, still twisting to get free of the grip. 

"Not if you try to run the moment I let go."

Channeling upon the fire burning her, she pinned him with her eyes. "What do you want?" 

He looked at her for a second before speaking. "I'm divorced."

Felicity felt her jaw drop at the sheer audacity of him, the anger inside her raging wildly now. "I know that. You were married to my best friend, if you remember. I was there at the wedding, remember? When you were looking at a woman who wasn't your bride and speaking your vows, you jerk. And now that she's divorced you, you what? See me and tell me you are available? Is that it?"

"Felicity."

Her breath hitched, stuck right in her throat, at the soft way he whispered her name, so much softer than the time on the beach, as though her angry rant hadn't affected him at all. Felicity looked at his intense eyes, and felt a shiver go down her spine, her hand still in his hold, her pulse skittering right under his thumb. 

"You have no right to touch me," she stated heatedly. "You have no right to say my name. You have no right."

That was when she saw the look in his eyes shift, something wild enter his eyes just as he pulled her hand up and stepped into her personal space. Her hand fisted under his grip and he tugged her forward using it, his face lowering to hers, so close she could make out the shades on grey in the blue, see the way his pupils blew, feel his breath on her face, the scent of scotch mixing with something woodsy. 

"You're right," he spoke, the softness in his voice belying the fire in his eyes. "I have no right. But I'm done being the good guy and I'm done doing the right thing."

Heart pounding, Felicity twisted her hand again, to escape his hold, and he pressed her fist back, closer to her face, his gaze fiery. 

Long seconds passed, her heart thundering in her chest, her body shaking with the intense sensations inside it, as he suddenly released her hand and took a step back. 

"Run all you want, Felicity," he spoke softly, his eyes fierce on her, making the blood speed inside her. "I found you now. I'll find you again."

Felicity stilled, her heart stopping, words she'd carried for so long with her assaulting her mind. 

  


_"Things you run away from have a way of finding you."_  

  


Felicity stood mute, gaping at him for a second, her body frozen with the words, the memories, the realities.   


They gazed at each other for long minutes, suspended in time, their eyes never moving from the other, the fierceness in his eyes lingering with something she did not want to look too closely at, the cage rattling inside her as they stood, just a few steps away.  

Slowly, as blood trickled rapidly into her heart and sense trickled into her mind, Felicity pursed her lips and steeled her spine. 

"You won't find me again," she told him, and broke their gaze, turning towards her car and opening the door. She quickly switched on the ignition and drove out of the lot, without sparing him a glance, without once checking the rear-view mirror, despite feeling his eyes on her. The pain of leaving him behind this time was almost non-existent. There was something else in its place. Something melancholic but nameless. Something hollow but incomplete. Something magnetic but lonely. 

'It' was not clawing now, not rattling now, not whimpering now. No. It was begging. To be set free. 

She couldn't.

She drove away with the knowledge. He would never find her.   


Somethings had to be finished before they could begin.   


Somethings had to be lost never to be found. 

Not in rattling cages. 

Not in intense gazes. 

Not in heated veins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tell me what you thought? I'd love some feedback.
> 
> Also, check out my other stories if you liked this. :)
> 
> Come say Hi to me on
> 
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	3. Facts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Thank you so, so much for the tremendous response to this story. What started as a simple tale spiraled completely out of my control an I am enjoying this ride so much! Thank you SO MUCH for all the love!
> 
> I apologize for being unable to update it sooner. October and November are super hectic months in real life and I really am sorry for making you wait so long on every story. I try to update as soon as I can. Thank you for all the patience :)
> 
> IMPORTANT - _THIS CHAPTER IS FROM OLIVER'S POV. ___  
> Only this. Next will be back to Felicity. I really hope you enjoy it.
> 
> _Don't forget to let me know what you thought. I love hearing from you and your feedback feeds my soul!_
> 
> _Happy reading!!!_

_ _

_Everything is dark_

_It's more than you can take_

_But you catch a glimpse of sunlight_

_Shining, shining down on your face,_

_Your face,_

_Oh your face..._

* * *

 

Oliver had been born a Queen. 

When he had been a little boy, that name had just been a fact. A fact. A simple fact like how chocolate ice-cream with a hint of mint was his favorite. A simple fact like how Tommy was his best friend. A simple fact like how he loved the rain. 

To him, being a Queen had just been the way of things. He hadn't known how not to be a Queen, nor had he ever desired otherwise. Why would he have, when everything he'd desired had been at his disposal before the wish had even escaped his lips? It had been just another fact. 

Facts, as Oliver had been told, were unshakable truths. 

Facts, as he had been told, were pivotal to being a Queen.  

Oliver had slowly, over time, learned the facts. 

Attend private schools - fact. Never get serious with girls - fact. Get a business degree - fact. And so one and so forth. 

He had rebelled, of course he had. For a brief period, he had rebelled. He had done booze, girls, gotten arrested and what not. But it had come to a stop. Because his partner in crime, his best friend had straightened himself out. Because his sister had grown up and he had to set an example for her. Because his parents had made him realize that for everything they had given him, he needed to reciprocate. 

So he had. He had caged the wild beast inside him and pretended like it had been put to rest. He had pasted a smile on his face and schmoozed people he'd detested. He had stopped dreaming and became the very thing he had once hated the most - a facade, a farce, a void. 

He had been told facts were simple truths. But he had seen them for what they truly were. Curses.

The name that had once been just a fact to him had become his curse. 

The whimper of Oliver was drowned, over time, behind the roar of Queen. And that was a fact. 

* * *

The first time he'd met Ashley Miller, he had been 18. 

Her father had invited their family over for dinner, and since he had been bored, he had agreed to go. Their families had been friends for a long time, but he had actually never met Ashley since she'd been at some boarding school. They had met that night though, and over dinner, they had started talking about their favorite music band. 

And though she'd been really pretty, with dark hair and green eyes, she had been the one girl Oliver had not felt any romantic interest towards. She'd been smart and loud but genuinely good. They had spent the night talking about things, and by the time he had returned home, it had been with a new friend. 

Over the years, they had kept in touch - sometimes via texts, sometimes meeting face to face. The meetings had always started with a hug and ended with one. 

They'd talked when he graduated from college, when he got a job in his family's company, when he became one of the executives, and finally when he got in line to take over as the youngest CEO. 

So when, on one night over a family dinner, her father proposed a marital bond between their families, no one blinked. His father beamed, ecstatic, for this was exactly the kind of business he'd wanted. His mother smiled, proud for Oliver to be getting a wife such as Ashley Miller. His sister squealed, turned towards him, and paused. 

Ashley looked up at him, and shrugged. 

Oliver looked down at his plate and sighed, tamping down the beast that reared its head in protest. It could have been a lot worse. Ashley- he knew and he liked. She was a good friend. Yes, it could have been a lot worse. 

He was getting married to Ashley Miller.  

It was just another fact. 

 

* * *

 

The first time he'd heard the name 'Felicity Smoak', he'd smiled, wondering what kind of a girl would have such a different name. It had been on one of his phone calls to Ashley. She'd just gotten into college and had been regaling a story about some party on campus a few days ago and how she'd met this girl with the different, but beautiful name. 

The second time he'd heard the name 'Felicity', a girl had been laughing in the background of the phone call while Ashley had been screeching about a spider. Oliver had laughed too, imagining this girl watching Ashley flail around. Her laugh had been very natural. And to Oliver, who'd spent his days surrounded with everything fake, it had been different. Like her name. Like a breath of fresh air. 

That had been the first night he'd googled 'Felicity'.

Happiness. Her name meant happiness. 

Another fact. 

 

* * *

 

Over the years, he'd gathered, unknowingly, a lot of facts about a girl he'd never even met. 

Every time he'd talked to Ashley, she'd spoken of Felicity. Little things like how there had been a small mishap while Felicity had been trying to mix two shades of blond to get the perfect shade to dye her hair with. Big things like how Felicity had cracked a code the professors hadn't been able to within seconds, a fact that had made him consider offering her a job at QC after graduation. 

The facts had piled in the back of his mind. He had let them. 

He'd not been the least bit surprised to learn Ashley had invited Felicity as the bridesmaid. 

He'd been curious to meet her, no doubt. After hearing about her for so long, he'd been very curious to meet her. 

He had been curious. 

He hadn't been prepared. 

 

* * *

 

He had never seen those eyes. 

He'd seen her face, frozen in time, captured in a photograph. She'd been sitting beside Ashley in a loose t-shirt, her dyed blonde hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, large rectangular glasses framing her laughing face, a fork in her hand pointed towards the plate of pancakes in front of her. Someone had snapped the picture of them early morning in the diner near the campus, Ashley had told him when he'd asked. They had been making stories about pancakes and laughing and someone had snapped a picture. 

Oliver had stared at the picture for a long time. 

Her eyes had been closed as she'd laughed. He'd wanted to see them. But he'd given Ashley her phone back and reined in his curiosity. 

He had never seen those eyes. 

And then they'd gutted him. 

 

* * *

 

He wasn't sad.

But he was tired. Of more things than he could count. One of them being talking to people he wanted to punch and pretending to smile when he just wanted to sit in a corner, unnoticed.  He was so very tired. 

But he continued smiling as one person after another came to congratulate him, wishing him all the happiness. He looked beside him towards Ashley. She looked happy. He knew his parents were happy. Her parents were happy. Thea was happy too. Only Tommy wasn't. Not because he didn't like Ashley. He did. But because he knew the truth. Tommy had tried to dissuade Oliver. 

_ "How can you make her happy when you won't be happy, Ollie?"  _

The question had stayed with Oliver. But he knew he would succeed. If there was one thing Oliver Queen was good at, it was being perfect at relationships. He was the perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect friend. He would be the perfect husband too. 

Tommy had shaken his head but promised to be there. 

Oliver turned, watching the door, waiting for his best friend to walk in and ease the strain of this cocktail party a little. Someone came to greet him again, and he pasted a smile on his face, his mind elsewhere, when he felt it. 

Eyes. 

On him. 

He'd lived under scrutiny long enough to know when someone watched him. He let them, never letting them realize he knew, never letting it affect him. 

But this time it was different. The stares always, after a while, always, lost interest and strayed. This one didn't. He felt the heaviness of that gaze on the side of his face, felt the consistent scrutiny never waver from him, and curiosity, more than anything else, had him raising his eyes and turning.

And for the first time in years, the dormant beast roared.

 

* * *

Her eyes. 

They were the first thing he noticed, the first thing he saw, and once he did, he couldn't look anywhere else. Her eyes were open, without the glasses he'd seen adorning her face in that lone picture. Her eyes were open, the curiosity, the interest, and something completely else all bare for him to witness across the room. Her eyes were open. 

He couldn't determine the color from the distance, couldn't determine the shade. But it did not matter. Because her eyes were open. 

He didn't look down to see what she was wearing, didn't look away like he usually did, didn't paste a smile on his face. Because her eyes were open. 

He looked back at her just as she was looking at him, not knowing why he did it, not understanding the urge roiling deep in his gut. The timing couldn't have been worse. The woman couldn't have been more inappropriate. His brain knew he should look away, should smile politely and take a few steps back. He knew the facts. She was Ashley's best friend, her bridesmaid. 

But the facts, for the first time in his life, scattered in the wind. Because h er eyes were _open._

And it was too late, but nothing on earth could have stopped him from opening his eyes too.   

 

* * *

 

Finding her on the moonlit beach was unintentional. 

He had escaped the party to find some peace, to just sit somewhere alone and be, without anyone to pretend for, and then he'd seen her, standing alone, her feet bare in the sand, her back bare in the wind, her arms bare in the moon. 

She was bare to him, in more ways than he could count. And he should have turned away. But he did not. 

He stood beside her, baring his feet to the same sand, baring his arms to the same moon. Baring himself. At least in his head. 

He stood beside her for a long time, finding that elusive peace, finding that tranquility that completely escaped him, and turned his head to see her. 

She had luminous eyes. Beautiful, blue eyes that blinked up at him, the concoction of shyness and boldness in her gaze genuine and so, so appealing. She didn't know who he was. He was certain, from what he knew about her, that her eyes would not be looking at him the way they were if she knew. But he was tethering himself to that look. Anchoring himself to those open eyes. And for the first time in a long, long time, he let himself be selfish, and take this one moment for peace just for himself. He let himself be selfish and let her stroke the beast inside him with her lashes, calming him and rousing him, without even realizing. He looked back at her, just as he wanted, unburdened by any responsibilities, any names, any notions. And for that, she gave him what he had never had. 

With her silence, she accepted him. Just for him. 

And it was heady. It was dangerous. It was soothing. It was more. 

Standing beside her, in the moonlight, seeing her face and seeing her eyes and the soft smile on her lush lips, harboring thoughts that a committed man should never harbor, Oliver let himself have just one night, as platonic as it could be, as intimate as it could be. He let his fingers brush hers once, just once, before pulling them back, not ready to flirt with those lines just yet. 

But her eyes closed. He looked away before he could see them shut, before he could see the betrayed look in her eyes. 

And walking away with his future bride tucked under his arm, he left her standing behind, alone on the beach, the oddest thought flickered through his mind. 

He should have offered her the job when she had graduated. 

* * *

Oliver Queen was not a jealous man. Neither was he a possessive man. Not by a long shot.

Ashley was his fiance and she laughed and joked with her male friends all the time. She had done the same with Tommy when he'd showed up last night. Oliver had always smiled and taken it in jest, or rolled his eyes and shaken his head. He was just not a jealous man, and that was a fact.

Sitting at the table, Oliver let his eyes wander back to her, a pang of regret spiking through his chest at her closed smile. He knew he was to blame. Her eyes had shuttered since last night, her smiles more reserved. She had curled in on herself. And he hated it. He hated that she didn't glance at him at all. He hated that even as her face turned, she willed her eyes away. He hated the circumstances. 

What he hated more, though, was the way Ashley's second cousin kept looking at her. He tried talking to her, and she smiled at him. He made some jokes and she laughed a little, her eyes opening a bit more. And then he touched her arm. 

Oliver willed himself to look away, the acid in his stomach churning vapidly, his hands clenching to fists under the table. Beside him Tommy and Thea were bantering with Ashley, but his entire body was aware of the heat coursing through his veins, the thoughts spiraling out of his control. That openness was his. Silent nights on moonlit beaches were his. The ring on his finger was his. 

Inhaling deeply, he blinked away the thoughts, his eyes straying to her again, like moth to light. And the beast raged. At the fucking cousin's hand under the table, no doubt touching her leg, and her clenched jaw as she tried to get away. He glared at the man, his own heart pounding, his blood fevered, the urge to rip away that straying hand tightening his gut. But the glare worked, and the hand came back. 

And slowly, he looked at her again, to find her staring at him, slightly surprised. 

As he breathed in, gazing back at her, he realized, stunned, what had just happened.  

Oliver Queen was not a jealous man - that was a fact. 

She had changed facts for him. 

* * *

He knew he should look away. His family was watching. Ashley was watching. Everyone was watching. 

He didn't. 

He spoke his vows, he slid the ring, he faked a smile. But he never looked away from her as she stood right behind his bride, her eyes terrified, pained, locked on his. It was a bad thing to do. He would kill any guy who ever did anything like this to his sister. But for the life of him, he couldn't look away. Maybe because he knew he'd never see her after this moment. Maybe because silent, moonlit nights only belonged in their memories and pain was the light of the day. Maybe...

Maybes and what ifs had become his recent friends. 

He leaned down to kiss his wife. There was no place for maybes in his life. 

* * *

 

The moment the cake was cut, he heard she was leaving. An emergency had come up. He knew it was a lie. 

She was running. As she should. And while he had no right to stop her, no right to anything, he found himself ducking the party, catching Tommy's eyes as he headed towards the dock, the frown on his friend's face lingering as he walked quickly under the darkening sky. Night and beaches belonged in his memory. He'd just allow himself one more. Because he knew she would never look at him the same again. Because he knew he did not deserve it. But bastard that he was, he wanted it. 

He saw her shoulders hunched as he walked closer, her back drooped and head lowered. His chest tightened seeing the pain in her body, pain that she was containing inside herself, pain that he was the cause of. He wanted nothing more that to contain that pain for her. But he had no right. 

Her back stiffened when he walked behind her, her awareness of him making regret sit heavier in his gut, that long drowned maybe rearing its head for one gasp of breath before he strangled it again. 

She turned to face him, the agony in her eyes hitting him right in the center, his breath hitching for a moment. 

And then he saw her become what he hated the most, what he looked at in the mirror everyday. A facade. He saw her paste a smile and speak. 

"Congratulations." 

No. This was wrong. More wrong than him being here. She was not a pretense. She was not a farce. He couldn't let her be. Not for him. Not to him. 

Heart breaking, he looked back at her, whispering the one word he had willfully refrained from speaking, the one word that had intrigued him long ago, the one word that had fascinated him so long ago. One word that destroyed him. 

"Felicity."

The catching of her breath was a dart in his heart. The rapid blinking of those lashes making the beast howl. 

His hand moved before he could stop it, that incomplete moment on the beach seeking its completion. He felt the small, fragile fingers of her soft hand twine with his, felt them squeeze his hand back for one moment suspended in time, for the one moment he was taking for himself, for his memory, for his future without her. The tightness in his throat hurt. The heaviness on his chest hurt. The clenching of his jaw hurt. The only thing not hurting was his hand in hers. 

And then she pulled away. His hand stayed beside him, attached to his body but adrift in the air, clinging to the memory of her skin. His eyes stayed glued to her back, clinging to the memory of hers. 

And she climbed on the ferry, growing smaller and smaller into the night, and he stood there, alone on the beach like he had left her once, his hand clenched to keep her memory intact, his eyes burning in an unfamiliar way, his chest getting tighter with each inhale. 

"Mr. Queen?" 

Someone called from behind him. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

He had never, in his entire life, hated being a Queen more than he did at that very moment. 

* * *

Felicity. 

Ashley asked him once, in the fourth month of their marriage, if he'd noticed something odd with her friend. He shook his head, his hand automatically flexing. His wife then went on about how her friend had changed after the wedding, become quieter, more distant. Oliver went on breathing. 

He told Tommy, one night, about her. He never mentioned who she was, or what had happened. But he told him how she'd made him feel. For that one moment. Then he went home. He made an effort, every single day, to be the best husband he could. Ashley had been his friend for a long time, and he loved her, but even as her husband, that love never went beyond friends. He made sure he took her out for dinners, he made sure their sex life was good, he made sure she wanted for nothing. They talked and they laughed and his married life was good. 

But there were moments, in the dark of the night, where memories lay buried, when he stared up at the moon, the moon that had witnessed those memories, and let himself linger. He knew Ashley spoke to her almost weekly but he never asked. But in those moments, those moments in the dark of the night, he let himself wonder. 

And then the day came. And Oliver Queen woke from his slumber. 

 

* * *

 

The day Ashley told him she wanted a divorce, almost after seven months of marriage, Oliver blinked. 

He wasn't happy. He wasn't sad. He wasn't relieved. 

He was exactly as he had been. 

They didn't tell their families, not until it was a done deal. 

The papers were signed in a few days. They parted ways amicably, as the friends they had been, with smiles and good wishes. Their families remained bonded over their stubborn children. 

And his first night as a bachelor, Oliver laughed with Tommy. Because Ashley had the power to remove the Queen from her life.

 

* * *

The first time he saw her, _her,_ after the wedding stunned him. She didn't see him. But he saw her. 

She stood outside a building, wearing formal trousers and a red blouse, an id card around her neck, those glasses on her face, her hair in a high ponytail. Her nose was glued in her tablet, her brows furrowed at whatever she was scrolling through, and he sat in his car parked outside the same building, getting late for his meeting but not giving a damn because she stood, right there, just few steps away from him, and his chest tightened even as something inside him came loose. He saw her pump her fist in the air suddenly as she smiled at her tablet, her face glowing with happiness as she started walking towards a small red car and got in. 

Oliver watched her drive away. He knew he should let her go. He knew he should back away. 

But when had he ever done what he should have when it came to her? 

He had found her. That was all that mattered.

 

 

* * *

Seeing her at the restaurant was a shock. Seeing her on a date was even more so. 

But this time she saw him too, her eyes, her open, blue eyes, flaming sapphire, calming turquoise, locked with his. And he sat back, satisfied with the knowledge, as egotistical as it was, that her date couldn't get her attention, not when he looked at her. Eight months had passed, and it hadn't changed. Not from across the room. Not in intensity. Not in the way it made him feel. If anything, it had gotten even more intense. Because there was no ring around his finger, no chain binding him to anything. 

Being a Queen with her had never been a problem. Being committed to her friend had been. 

Oliver watched her rush away from the table to the ladies room, realizing she was running, just like she had that night, like she had those three days. He sat back, nodding at his companions, sipping his scotch calmly. 

She came back and avoided his eyes, focusing intently on her date, and Oliver smiled a little, seeing the concentrated look, similar to what she had been wearing when she'd stared into her tablet. He let her avoid him. He let her run. 

She finished with her dinner soon, walking out with her date and parted ways with him with a small kiss on his cheek. 

Oliver excused himself, walking after her quickly. 

"I see you are still running away."

He saw her still at his words, saw her stop completely in her tracks. She turned. 

"I see you are still staring at women you have no rights to." 

He felt his eyebrows raise, amusement washing over him at her spirited response. "Not women." Just her. 

Her lips pursed in anger, her open eyes betraying the emotions she felt so clearly, and she turned to leave. Oliver felt his hand shoot out, catching a hold of her small wrist before she could take a step, her eyes flying to his bigger hand, before meeting his, her aqua eyes terrified, the panic in them clear to him. He held her still, knowing he couldn't let her run, couldn't let her give in to the panic, not now. 

"I just want to talk," he spoke, as soothingly as he could, his own heart pounding. 

"You can do that without holding my hand," she stated, her jaw clenched. 

"Not if you try to run the moment I let go." 

He saw the panic fade as anger took hold, her spine stiffening. "What do you want?"  

_Her._

_Just her._

He let her try to tug herself away. He let her rant angrily at him. He let her vent out. 

But he kept a hold of her hand, kept her pinned to the spot and told her, after months and days and hours of longing, he told her what he wanted. In as clear terms as could. He was done being the good man and doing the right thing. He was selfish. No matter how much he tried to control it, he was selfish for her. He liked being selfish. Being selfish where she was concerned made him happy. So that's what he would be. Because he knew he needed that one chance. He needed that maybe. He needed that one shot. And she had to give it to him. He would earn it. He would take it. He would claim it. Whichever way, he would have it. 

So, he let her go. He let go of her hand and watched her retreat, one fact, one small, simple fact embedded deep inside him. 

"Run all you want, Felicity. I found you now. I'll find you again." 

He watched her run and pulled his phone out, dialing a familiar number. 

"Oliver!" he heard Ashley smile into the phone. "How are you, handsome?"

"Ashley," he spoke, smiling, watching the taillights disappear around the corner. "I need to tell you something, friend to friend."

"Sure, what's up?" she asked.

Oliver took a deep breath. "Meet me in an hour."

"Is everything okay?" he heard the concern in her voice. 

"It's fine but this is important." 

"Okay," she agreed. "Let's meet up at The Coffeehouse at 10. See you."

Oliver cut the call, pocketing his phone and walked back inside. He knew telling Ashley now, before she found out another way, was the right thing to do. He was done being a good guy but Felicity was not going to be in the night anymore. She deserved the light of the day. _They_ did. 

_"I found you now. I'll find you again."_

His own words echoed in his head, as he reveled in that fact. A simple fact.  

For the first time, all other facts ceased to be. 

For the first time, he walked, just the man, just Oliver, towards his future. 

For the first time, he let the beast out, let it scent her in, let it prepare for the hunt. 

He had been told, all his life, that facts were irrefutable, unchangeable, unshakable truths. 

There was just one for him now. 

Felicity was his fact. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tell me what you thought? I'd love some feedback.
> 
> Also, check out my other stories if you liked this. :)
> 
> Come say Hi to me on
> 
> TUMBLR : [supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com](http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/)  
> TWITTER : [@dorky06](http://twitter.com/Dorky06/)


	4. Pretenses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> It has been SO long since I wrote this and I'm so sorry to all those who'd been waiting for an update. This story was originally supposed to be just 3 chapters and it kind of ran away from me. It has 6. 
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for the immense love and the spectacular response to this story! Seriously, I am FLOORED at how much you love this. Thank you!
> 
> Here is the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Don't forget to drop me a line with your thoughts. I love hearing from you!
> 
> Happy reading!!!

                                                             

 

_Oh, you're in my veins_

_And I cannot get you out_

_Oh, you're all I taste_

_At night inside of my mouth..._

_No, I cannot get you out_

_(Oh, you're in my veins)_

_No, I cannot get you out_

_Oh no, I cannot get you_

* * *

Felicity had been six the first time she had pretended. 

She's been asked to pretend by Mrs. Griffith that she was a tree in the school play. Felicity, little, diligent Felicity, dressed in loose brown pants and green sweater with a crown of leaves around her dark, little head had stood with her arms raised, holding two branches, and pretended to be a tree. She'd been the best tree there had ever been, Mrs. Griffith had said with twinkling eyes. If she could be a tree, Felicity could be anything she wanted to be, Mrs. Griffith had said.

Little Felicity had been happy with that knowledge. She'd spent the summer that year pretending to be a space pirate and an astronaut and a federal agent and everything else her tiny brain could come up with. It had driven her mother crazy. It had driven her father to laughter. They'd shook their heads in affection and exasperation, but loved her all the more for it. 

So, she'd let her imagination run wild. On fanciful days she'd let herself be a warrior goddess. On rational days she'd be a brilliant but mad scientist. All the stories she'd heard and read had combined with all the scientific curiosities. And she'd let them all out.

Till she'd come home to find her mother crying and her father missing.

Pretenses had been her expressions. 

Until she'd stopped expressing.

* * *

 

Felicity had been sixteen when she'd been in her final class for graduation. She'd been brilliant and young and a single child of a waitress mother in a class of kids older than her. To say she hadn't been popular would be to put things mildly. She'd been laughed at and teased and bullied mercilessly, from her glasses to her ramblings. Typical stupid guys had made fun of her. Typical mean girls had cornered her in corridors and told her how man man could ever want her. And since her own father had left, Felicity had channeled that anger and told them off with one simple sentence. 

"I don't need any man."

She couldn't remember the number of times she'd repeated that over the years in high school. She had told the bullies off and stood up for herself. She hadn't let anyone get close to her or try to befriend her. 

Except her first boyfriend. He'd been a sweet, sensitive guy who'd made her believe he'd cared for her, sweet, charming, affectionate. Felicity had let herself revel in that little affection. She'd pretended, for the first time in her young life, that there could be a glimmer of hope, for her to be loved. 

The glimmer had faded when she'd found him in bed with another girl.

She'd stood there, on the door to his room, her hand on the doorknob as she'd felt all that hope strangle and watched her fragile dreams shatter like shards of glasses on the floor. It had been more impacting because he'd not just been the first man she'd trusted, but the first person in what had been so, so long.

That trust had been mutilated.

And, raising her chin and walking away as if tears had not hung on her lashes, she'd realized something intrinsic had changed, yet again.

Her pretenses, in that moment, had become her armor.

* * *

Cooper's death had been a moment of impact. After just beginning to trust again, to have it completely mauled upon had thrown her over an edge. 

A week later, at a party, Ashley had found her. Sweet, sassy Ash who'd stayed with her through her most depressed days and made her laugh. She'd been the best and only friend Felicity had had in her life. 

And even with her, Felicity had pretended. By that point, Felicity hadn't known how not to pretend. It had become intrinsic. 

By that point, her pretenses hadn't been armors. 

They had been walls.

* * *

 

Shadows never attacked- they embraced. 

There was something she found soothing about the shadows in her room. She could speak aloud to them, confess to her darkest of secrets, and they just accepted those, made her accept those. 

Her shadows didn't know her pretenses. They knew her truths. 

Sometimes she wondered about that night on the moonlit beach, wondered why that night had been so different, why he had been so different. She'd never had trouble keeping people beyond her walls - the walls that weren't easy to break through. Yet, that night something had been different. And deep down, though she knew it had been her love for Ashley that had made her turn away, deep, deep down she knew she was running away for a different reason, a reason that slipped from her mind like sand through her fingers. 

And she knew that only because, when she played that damned 'what if' game, she asked herself what she would have done had he not been committed to marry her best friend. She asked herself if she would have allowed him to take her to his room, or allowed him to take her for a coffee, or allowed him to get to know her. 

And in the dark of her room, she admitted she wouldn't have. 

She would still have run away. Maybe a day later, or a week or a year. But at some point, she would have run away from him.

Not just because that night on the beach had been different. Or because he had been different. 

She had been different too. And that scared her most of all. 

* * *

As she stood in her best friend's club that, after her insistence that she wind down from a long week at work, it happened.

It happened exactly like that first time, in a manner so similar it was eerie, so similar it was almost as if the universe had choreographed it yet again. 

She stood near the bar with a drink in hand, alone, watching the dancing crowd. 

He stood near other people, talking and smiling, drawing her eyes. 

And within moments, he turned to look right at her. 

Her heart stopped. 

Again.

Because for that one moment, with his brilliant sapphire eyes on her, they were just two strangers with nothing but possibilities.

For that one moment, he wasn't the ex-husband of her best friend and she wasn't the girl standing alone in her club. No. For that one moment, they were exactly who they had been months ago, strangers with locked gazes and entwined futures.

For that one moment.

Then the moment had ended.

And the similarities to that stopped. 

Because, unlike then, he took a step towards towards her.

Her breath hitched. 

He crossed the distance between them before she could take a breath, his steps long and sure, his torso encased in a black shirt with open collar and folded sleeves, his forearms ropes of muscles under the flashing lights. He was the only man she could see who wasn't wearing a three piece and yet, for some reason, everyone else seemed to be overdressed. There, in that stride right there, in those blue eyes locked on hers as he made his way to her, right there was the reason she wanted to run, right there was the reason she couldn't take a step. 

Her heart thrummed as he made his way to her shadowed corner, some part of her brain aware that this was his ex-wife's club, her best friend's club, and they couldn't look at each other here, not like they did. And still, her feet refused to budge, her eyes refused to move, her heart refused to calm. 

And then he was there, right there, a few feet away from her, keeping that polite distance, yet her body hummed as though it was pressed against his. 

Their gazes never wavered. The loud music kept playing, the beats throbbing in her pulse, pulsing in her body. The lights flashed all around them, strobes of light moving round and round over the crowd. She couldn't hear her breathing over the music. She couldn't hear his. And somehow, that only added to this odd bubble that was forming around them, like it had that night on a silent, lonesome beach. 

She took a step back, her back hitting the wall, the exposed skin coming into contact with the cool wall, making her spine shiver. 

He stood exactly where he'd been. 

It had been days since she'd last seen him, days since she'd run away, days since her eyes had been starved. Yes, they had been starved. She'd never allowed herself to indulge and feed that hunger, but that never belied the reality of that very hunger. And he stood before his, his face stripped of pretenses, bare to her eyes, like it had been the last time she'd seen him, like it had been when he'd declared his intent to pursue her. She had waited and waited and waited, with her walls up and guard alert, for him to make any move. 

He hadn't, almost as though he'd expected that. 

And now, when she'd come to her best friend's club for a night of relaxation, he was there. 

She wasn't prepared for him. 

She never had been. 

But watching him take a step forward, his eyes glued to hers, his scruff almost rakish, giving him that dangerous edge that somehow made her heart flutter, Felicity pressed harder into the wall. 

He took another slow step forward, and her body tensed, the shadows around them chasing each other, almost in a mating dance of a kind. They came together, collided, and drew apart, before clashing and merging again, only to run away. Felicity watched those shadows play on him, fascinated. She knew they were playing on her too. 

And for some reason, it wasn't sexual. No, her pain hadn't been because of sexuality.

It wasn't sensual. Her agony hadn't been for some sensual loss either.

She didn't know what it was exactly. It was just...  _intense._

With one last step, he closed the gap between them, his arms coming up to beside her head, caging her in. The _something_ she'd caged inside herself, something that had been limp, defeated after trying to break free, woke up from the slumber. 

Felicity tilted her head back to look up into his eyes, feeling that _something_ take a hold of the cage and rattle it, feeling the whimpers and the pleas to be set loose and set free. It shook her to the core as it tried to come out, making her breaths come out faster, making her heart pound heavily, making everything inside her rattle to her bones. She didn't understand why she reacted to him like this, why that something inside her was tugged with its entirety towards him, why the desire to set it loose was so acute it hurt. 

He didn't touch her as he stood there, watching her with those intense, intense eyes, watching her for reactions, watching her for a crack in those walls. Her walls couldn't be cracked from the outside. It was the inside that worried her.

He didn't touch her at all. He didn't have to.

Every single fiber in her body was buzzing with awareness of him. Every single cell inside her was aware of the tiny gap between them. Every single muscle was coiled in tension against the heat it could feel emanating from him. 

His breaths washed over her face, his scent musky, heady. She was aware of the biceps hard just inches beside her, of the hard muscles tensed in front of her, of the vein throbbing in his neck. She was aware of it all, without ever removing her eyes from his.

Felicity felt her heart pound, her lips part as breaths escaped hers, their sound lost in the heavy music thrumming all around them. 

He leaned forward, just an inch, and she knew. In that moment, standing right there, in that bubble that had always surrounded them somehow, if he closed the gaps between their lips, she would let him. In that moment, she would let him hold her there, let him brush his lips over hers, let him make her forget. In that moment, she would not care who he was and who she was or that he was available. In that moment, nothing would matter. 

She would run after that moment was over. She would pull back and shove him away. She would make her escape. 

But for that moment, she would wait. 

Her lips trembled. 

She didn't know how he was here, or how he'd known she would be here. She didn't even care. 

She traced his lips with her eyes, her fingers tingling for a taste of sensation as she curled them beside her, watching the mole at the corner, watching the rakish scruff, watching his own lips part. 

She watched him come closer, and her eyes drooped, before shutting completely. The noise suddenly seemed louder under the rush of blood in her ears. The warmth of his presence suddenly seemed more profound against her skin. The scent of his cologne suddenly seemed faded under that strong musky scent. 

His breaths came closer to her face, and her heart thudded loudly in her chest, the moment suspended in time, her pulse spiking and blood hot in her body, every inch of which wanted to lean into him. 

She felt his scruff rasp over her cheek, the sensation sending a shot of electricity down her spine, making her gasp as his lips headed for her ear, slowly, provocatively. 

That something inside her screamed hoarse, begging for her control to snap.

Felicity fisted her hands and waited, her breath locked in her throat. 

"Felicity."

Her neck arched as his lips brushed her lobe, her name a whisper, a secret between them, that he murmured just for her. His voice heavy, husky, smoothing over her senses even as it chafed her raw.

Her lips trembled, the thing inside her taking shattering as she heard the one thing she'd dreamed of for months, that one moment on a silent beach as private as this one in a crowded club.

"Oliver."

Her lips spoke before she knew they had, her tongue tasting his name like this for the first time. She liked the taste of it, like the way his name rolled of her tongue in one breath, liked the way it seemed in her breathless voice. 

She felt his arms come closer to her head. His lips never took advantage of her jugular, never took any liberty she was willing to give him in that moment. She remembered how he'd told her of his intentions to be selfish, but right then, in that moment, he somehow wasn't being. She could feel the pulse of need inside him yet he never acted upon it. He just stayed, breathing into her hair, brushing against her skin as he spoke.

"We can't run away from this, Felicity," he whispered against her ear, his voice low but still audible despite the loud music.

They couldn't run. She couldn't run. Fact was, she didn't want to. But what was the point of staying now if she would only run later?

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night."

And she stilled.

The words doused her like cold water. The bubble snapped. She pulled her head back, away from him in the limited space, and opened her eyes to watch him open his. The hunger in them made her stomach knot, calling to the thing inside her on a primal level, her heart beating furiously in her chest.

"No."

The word hung between them for a long minute. 

She didn't know what she expected him to do. But it wasn't what he did.

Never breaking her gaze, his blue eyes blazing, his jaw tight, he leaned down and brushed his lips over her cheek, and dropped his arms. Then, without a word, he walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Felicity stood there, stunned, watching his retreating back.

He'd left.

For the first time since she'd met him, he had been the one to walk away. 

Because she had rejected him.

And standing there all alone, she suddenly knew why she was different with him.

Her pretenses, for some insane reason, did not exist with him. They hadn't that night on the beach. They hadn't tonight in the club. 

He just looked at her with his eyes and stripped her naked in her own shadows, bare to him like she had never been to anyone else. _That_ was why it had hurt so much. That was why she'd run and run. That was why she still ran. Because in those very shadows she liked, the pretenses, that had been her reality for so long, suddenly seemed like illusions. Everything seemed like illusion. 

Everything except him.

And in respecting her decision and walking away, he'd not broken her walls.

He had scaled them.

That _something_ inside her, finally, after being stifled and caged for so long, broke free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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